


Nungel (Flower of all Flowers)

by aquileaofthelonelymountain



Category: The Hobbit (Jackson Movies)
Genre: Flower Language, Fluff, Love Confession, M/M, Thilbo, bagginshield, bagginshieldweek, everybody survives/nobody dies, flower crown, post-botfa au, shy!Bilbo
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-11-27
Updated: 2016-11-27
Packaged: 2018-09-02 15:15:53
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,447
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8672341
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/aquileaofthelonelymountain/pseuds/aquileaofthelonelymountain
Summary: Recently, Bilbo seems distracted, even unhappy. But what Thorin interprets as homesickness is something different. And although Bilbo knows very well why he feels so strangely out of place, he lacks the courage to tell Thorin. It's only good that even dwarves know a thing or two about flowers ...For Bagginshieldweek.Edit: Now with gorgeous art from the wonderful Ruto! Check out her blog, it's just amazing :D





	

**Author's Note:**

> Do you ever have a moment when you think that Bagginshield has taken over your life? I had one, and this is the result.  
> I’m not quite sure how it happened – I went to bed with thoughts about snow and flower crowns, and when I woke up I had this story clearly in my head. I put everything else aside and spent the day at my laptop (getting the story from my head onto the screen took its time nonetheless …). It just had to be written.  
> With this background, this story feels special to me, and I was wondering when I should publish it – maybe for a special occasion? And – lucky me! – only a few days later I read about the Bagginshield Week. What could be better than to share this story with you on the last day of this week?  
> I’m so happy to be in this fandom. I love Middle Earth and Bagginshield, but it’s not the movies and characters alone that fascinate me. I also adore you, my fellow fans. I adore your creativity, your kindness, and the way you make me smile whenever I open AO3 or tumblr. I love it when I manage to make someone of you smile … and I hope I can do so with this story.
> 
> If I really manage, maybe you consider leaving a comment ...? I'd love to hear from you!

The snowfall was getting stronger.

Bilbo had never seen snowflakes like these before; they were so big that the whole world disappeared behind a white veil. Even the usually ever-present mountains were hidden when he looked out of the windows. It was a strange feeling that was increased by the lush plants that surrounded him in his greenhouse. If he was honest, it was a feeling that unsettled him.

But, if he was even more honest, he had been feeling unsettled for quite a while.

There was no use in denying it, not with the evidence of his state of distraction in front of him. He had been lost in thoughts for an hour or two, and his hands had moved without him actually realizing what they were doing. Now Bilbo was staring at the result of their work.

It was a flower crown, mostly made of white flowers, of tulips and roses and lilies. There were some beautiful blurs of colour as well, camellias, violets and forget-me-nots, and the wire that held them together was hidden by myrtle leaves.

Bilbo sighed as he looked at the flower crown. Back in the Shire, the hobbits would have bowed their heads in shame, embarrassed because of the utter bluntness of it.

_I love you. Truly, purely, with all my heart. But will I ever find the courage to tell you?_

Bilbo tucked at one of the petals to rearrange it although there was no need to do so.

He had been thinking of Thorin.

He wouldn’t deceive himself: The dwarf king had been the centre of his thoughts for a while now. That was an understatement, to tell the truth. It was more than just a while.

Almost a year had passed since the Battle of the Five Armies, and it had been a busy year. The rebuilding of Erebor had proceeded, dwarves from all over Middle Earth had come to the Lonely Mountain, and Bilbo had settled into his new life. He had helped wherever he could, and the dwarves had tried their best to make him feel as much at home as possible. He had been choked with emotion when the company had presented him his own bright, cheerful rooms and his greenhouse with many plants he knew from home, but also with many that were new to him.

However, there were times when he felt … hollow, gloomy, and alone. Bilbo had wondered if he might get homesick. He thought of Bag End and the Shire from time to time, but he didn’t feel the urge to return there as soon as possible. So that couldn’t be the reason for his restlessness.

At first Bilbo had assumed that he had simply gotten used to the presence of the dwarves and quickly felt lonely now. After all, they had travelled together for a long time, and he wasn’t accustomed to be on his own anymore. However, he could sit amongst the members of the company without feeling any better. It didn’t matter if they sat quietly together in one of their rooms and drank tea, or if they celebrated in one of the lively inns.

It took him a while to figure out that he only felt so strangely out of place whenever he hadn’t seen Thorin for a long time.

The rebuilding of Erebor kept the king busy, and he often worked until late at night, sitting over construction plans, cost reports, and stocklists. Sometimes Bilbo didn’t see him for days, and days might turn into weeks when Thorin had to leave for a meeting in the Iron Hills or even at Mirkwood. Without him, someone was missing.

But when Bilbo went to welcome him at the gates at his return, the warm tingling in his belly returned as well. When they sat together, smoking a pipe or drinking tea, and Thorin told of his journey, Bilbo felt easy and comfortable again. On the day following such an evening he always found himself smiling and humming over his plants or books.

With the connection between Thorin’s presence and his own cheerfulness finally drawn, it hadn’t taken Bilbo long to understand that he was in love. That realization could have been an uplifting one … if it weren’t for the fact that he was in love with Thorin – the king! – of all people.

They were close friends, ever since that day on the Eastern slopes of the Misty Mountains, and all the events that had followed that day. They were bound together by dragon-fire, gold-sickness, and war, but also by a shared journey, long hours of talking, and risking one’s life for each other.

But the point was: They were friends, and Bilbo had no reason to believe that they could be more. He was only a hobbit, quite a little fellow in a wide world, after all. Although he lived in Erebor there were many who considered him a mere guest, an outsider despite his achievements, and they were right. What could someone like he possibly offer the King under the Mountain?

 _But_ , a tiny voice in his head whispered, _he isn’t only the King under the Mountain. He’s still Thorin. Your friend Thorin._

His friend, yes. That was the problem. Bilbo sighed. He didn’t feel like himself at all. It wasn’t his way to simply pine without doing anything. But as soon as his feelings for Thorin were concerned, he entirely lost courage.

Bilbo held up the flower crown and shook his head as he looked at the tulips and roses with another deep sigh.

“You don’t seem to be happy with that flower wreath. It’s very pretty, though.”

Bilbo nearly jumped as he heard the familiar voice, and his heart beat faster as he turned to see Thorin standing amidst his plants.

“A crown”, he mumbled without thinking what he was saying. “It’s a flower crown.”

He noticed that Thorin wasn’t wearing his raven crown today, and he wasn’t dressed for a meeting in the throne room either. Instead, he wore a grey-blue tunic with silver embroideries and a dark blue cloak, all colours that emphasized his beautiful eyes and made Bilbo’s heart beat faster.

Of course, Bilbo’s gaze didn’t go unnoticed. “I’m finished with the royal duties for today”, Thorin explained. “There should have been another meeting, but the ambassador got stuck in Dale. The snowstorm, you see.” His mouth twitched. “I’m sorry for the poor raven he sent us through wind and weather, but it’s actually a good opportunity. I wanted to speak with you anyway.”

“Oh”, Bilbo made while twisting the flower crown in his hands. “That sounds … like a serious matter.”

“Truth be told: It is.” Thorin glanced out of the windows where the snow continued to fall heavily. The sky was already darkening, and Bilbo felt cold. “I know that it’s still winter and therefore too early to ask you this, but … Would you like to return to the Shire in spring?”

It took Bilbo some effort to maintain a face that was not agitated. Was that a casual question? Or a hidden demand to leave? Thorin wouldn’t ask that of him … would he? He had told Bilbo that he was welcome to stay as long as he wanted. Had the king changed his mind?

Bilbo swallowed. “I”, he managed to stammer, “I’m not … I don’t know if … I haven’t t-thought about that yet.”

“I don’t mean to urge you”, Thorin replied with a slight cough. He avoided looking into Bilbo’s eyes as he continued: “You’re welcome to stay here as long as you want. But I just couldn’t help noticing that you seemed … distracted recently. Even unhappy, if I daresay. I was wondering if you might be homesick.”

“I’m not!”, Bilbo exclaimed. “It is true that I think of Bag End sometimes, but I enjoy staying at Erebor.” The next words came over his lips before he could stop them. “I’m not homesick. I’m lovesick.”

A moment of silence. Then: “I … understand.”

Bilbo glanced up at Thorin. A smile had appeared on his face, but it didn’t look happy. On the contrary: It was a forced smile that left his eyes clouded. Thorin’s voice was level when he asked: “Is this why you made the flower crown? To give it to your beloved?”

“Y-yes.” He should have stayed silent in the first place. Lovesickness! What a foolish thing to say. But he had said too much to keep silent now. He couldn’t get out of this situation without making a fool out of himself anyway.

Bilbo closed his eyes – he couldn’t watch himself doing this –, stretched his arms out and presented the flower crown to Thorin. “I-if you will have it …”

Another moment of silence passed between them, but if Bilbo had thought the first one to be uncomfortable, this one was unbearable. But then, Thorin’s hands brushed over his – Bilbo gave a start at this unexpected touch –, and the dwarf gently took the flower crown from his hands. Bilbo opened his eyes and watched in astonishment as Thorin cautiously placed it on his head. The white flowers were a stunning contrast to his dark hair, and the forget-me-nots and violets matched brilliantly with his eyes.

Thorin looked at the hobbit, and not only did he smile again, but his eyes shone bright as well. “How do I look?”, he asked softly.

Lovely. Beautiful. Breath-taking. There were so many words to describe him, but not a single one passed Bilbo’s lips as Thorin sealed them with a tender kiss.

Bilbo’s heart skipped several beats just to start racing like mad. A sweetness beyond words spread within him, and he gradually began to understand that it had nothing to do with the scent of the flowers. It was Thorin. Thorin …

He couldn’t believe that Thorin was kissing him while wearing the flower crown he had made for him. But he knew that he didn’t want this to end. He slid his arms around Thorin’s neck and cradled him. A part of him was still afraid that this could be an illusion, a mere fancy that might be gone the next moment, so he clung to him as if he was drowning.

But Thorin was no illusion, and he showed no sign of disappearing. Instead, the dwarf placed his warm hands on his waist, thus pulling him closer. Bilbo could feel how the tension that had accompanied him for so long fell off him like a heavy cloak. Now he felt light as thistledown, and he sighed into their kiss, sighed with relief and happiness. At the same time his lips parted without him thinking too much about it; it felt so natural to open to Thorin. He shivered despite the warmth he was feeling in their embrace as Thorin’s tongue grazed his lips. Bilbo pressed his mouth harder against Thorin’s, determined to relish every touch, every tingle to the fullest. He had yearned so long for this.

Thorin deepened their kiss, and the sensation of his tongue meeting Bilbo’s was intoxicating. Bilbo got dizzy with pleasure, and he answered the caress eagerly. His hands moved away from Thorin’s neck to cup his face, and his fingers ran through his short-trimmed beard with abandon. He knew what touching a dwarf’s beard like this meant, but he had been timid for far too long. No more misunderstandings. He wanted to bare his heart to him.

Thorin clutched at his back and moaned, a sound that echoed through Bilbo’s mouth in the most delicious way. Thrilled by the sounds he could educe from Thorin, he moved his hands further on, stroked over his braids and temples full of adoration. He dug his fingers into the dark tresses and combed through them with growing fervour until he nudged against the flower crown.

Suddenly, Thorin’s lips curled upwards, and he had to break away with a ringing laugh. “Careful”, he chuckled. “It would be a pity if I lost the most important crown I will ever wear.”

Bilbo looked at him. His blue eyes were shining, his cheeks and lips were rosy, and he breathed heavily despite his mirthful expression. His face was beaming with a smile – one that Bilbo had often seen when they were together. But it was only now that he could tell the smile for what it was. It was the one smile that Thorin gave him alone … always had given him alone.

He decided to simply say what was on his mind once more. “I love you, Thorin.”

Thorin brought his face closer to Bilbo’s and kissed him softly. “And I love you”, he breathed against his lips. He ran his hands through the hobbit’s hair, and the expression in his eyes – although it didn’t lose any of its tenderness – turned thoughtful. “It should be long enough”, he murmured. “Would you allow me to braid your hair?”

“Always.”

Thorin softly stroked his cheek. “I could also tuck a flower behind your ear … But I’m afraid every flower will be pale compared to you. After all, you’re _nungel_.”

“ _Nungel_?”, Bilbo repeated, trying to taste the syllables of the dwarvish language on his tongue like a fruit that was yet unknown to him. “What does that mean?”

“It means”, Thorin explained after snatching another kiss from him, “that the most beautiful flower will always be the one I’m holding right here in my arms.”

                                             

***

 

Seasons change, snow melts, and flowers … flowers wither.

But not the flower crown.

As soon as the petals showed the first sign of withering, Thorin bore them into his smithy, and he preserved them by coating them with metal. With the utmost care he worked, and the outcome was marvellous.

Bilbo knew flowers could be coated by silver; the dwarven merchants that had travelled through the Shire had sometimes offered them to sell. He had thought that Thorin would work with silver as well, and he was utterly speechless when he found out that his beloved had coated the flowers with nothing less than mithril.

The outcome was beautiful beyond description. The precious metal didn’t hide the colour of the flowers, but enhanced their beauty; the petals looked as if they had been coated by a veil of starlight. Bilbo could look at the shimmering petals for hours and hours … especially when Thorin wore this crown.

For whenever the occasion deemed him appropriate, Thorin would take the flower crown from its pedestal, hand it over to Bilbo and – although he had made a habit of calling him _givashel_ – ask him: “Would you do me the honour, _nungel_?”

And Bilbo would answer the same way he had answered when Thorin had asked him if he could braid his hair.


End file.
